


Anything, Anything

by talefeathers



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Deal with a Devil, Demon Deals, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 15:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18876208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talefeathers/pseuds/talefeathers
Summary: Mercutio has never performed a restorative spell before, but Valentine has been cursed and he's the only one who can help him.





	Anything, Anything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MercutioLives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercutioLives/gifts).



> Prompt: Escalus bros + "If I die, I'm never speaking to you again."

“If I die, I’m never speaking to you again,” Valentine said, his voice thin and quavering as he shuddered on the leaf-soft forest floor.

“I mean, yeah, that’s how death works,” Mercutio replied from where he knelt above him, careful to smooth the nerves out of his own voice. “Now shut up and let me focus.”

Nothing even adjacent to healing magic had ever been Mercutio’s strong suit. Restorative spells had always been more Romeo’s thing, but Romeo wasn’t here.

And Valentine had been cursed.

“Close your eyes,” Mercutio said, not because it would actually help in any way, but because he’d never work up the nerve to try this while watching his kid brother blink away tears. “And just. Try to breathe, okay? I’ve never performed a restoration, and I’ve never had one done on me so I’m not sure how this is going to feel –”

“Just do it,” Valentine ground out as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yeah,” Mercutio said with a nervous, breathy chuckle. “Yeah. Okay. Sure. No sweat.”

He took a deep breath in through his nose, exhaled through his mouth, and then settled his hands on his brother’s chest.

For a moment, nothing happened. Stillness settled over the two of them like dust while Mercutio tried to focus his breath into stirring the spell.

Then Valentine’s chest lurched. Once. Twice. The third lurch pulled Valentine all the way up into a sitting position, and he shoved Mercutio away from him as a stream of blood spilled over his chin.

“Val!” Mercutio yelped, some absurd reflex driving him to cup his hands beneath his brother’s mouth as if catching the blood would do either of them any good. “Val, Valentine, talk to me, are you –?”

Valentine met his brother’s gaze with wide, terrified eyes, but could not seem to speak; he only gasped and hiccuped uselessly against another building retch.

“What do I – what do I – what do I do?” Mercutio shouted, taking Valentine’s face desperately into his blood-slick hands. “Gods, gods somebody – help me! _Help me!”_

Valentine tore Mercutio’s hands away from his face, but held them tightly in his own as he turned and vomited more blood.

“No,” Mercutio whimpered. “No, no, no, there must be something I can – please, Val, oh please –”

Valentine was gasping again, but the horrible gurgling sound in his throat told Mercutio he wasn’t pulling in a lot of air. With a sob Mercutio pressed his brother’s knuckles to his forehead.

“Please someone help me,” he whispered.

_What will you give me if I do?_

Mercutio jumped as if struck at the sound of this voice, which seemed to fill the entire cavern of his skull, but he didn’t remain thunderstruck for long.

“I – I – anything! _Anything!”_ he shouted into the air. “I’ll give you anything, please, please –”

_Then give me your allegiance._

“You have it,” Mercutio rasped, voice breaking. “Whatever you are and however this damns me, you have it.”

There was no response from the voice, but Valentine’s head jerked back as he at last pulled in a long, clean breath.

“Oh thank every god,” Mercutio exhaled in a rush. He yanked his brother into a fierce embrace, one hand clawing into his sweaty hair. “Val. My Val.”

“Guess we’re – still on – speaking terms,” Valentine huffed between breaths, with a weary chuckle that tore Mercutio’s heart clean in two.

“What, thought you’d scare me off with some theatrics?” he asked past the shudder in his voice. “I invented theatrics, kid. You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that.”

“What were you talking about earlier?” Valentine asked. His breathing had begun to even out, lending the question a dreamy quality. “Something about being damned?”

“Nothing, man. Don’t worry about it. Gods, I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Inside, however, Mercutio could already feel his heart growing heavy with some as-yet-undetermined burden.


End file.
